


we can fake it for the airwaves (force our smiles, baby, half dead)

by entangledbanks (summerhurleys)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen, btw pete and patrick's relationship in this is platonic i guess, no seriously pete FALLS OUT OF THE SKY, possible band name origins, pre!FOB AU, starboy!pete, this is seriously an inaccurate AU im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:39:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerhurleys/pseuds/entangledbanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete Wentz was the boy who ‘fell out’ of the sky that one night when Patrick Stump was fifteen years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we can fake it for the airwaves (force our smiles, baby, half dead)

**Author's Note:**

> I actually never meant to write anything else for the rest of the school year after yesterday’s fic…but I was sitting at my laptop one minute playing solitaire, the next this fic was coming out faster then I could possibly process. Also, this is probably the most seriously inaccurate AU-but-not-AU i’ve ever written. I mean…Pete’s not a starboy. I hope you enjoy.  
> Also, this fic was heavily inspired by _From Under The Cork Tree_ and that was what I listened to the whole time I wrote this, especially "I've Got A Dark Alley And An Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth" (Summer Song) because young Fall Out Boy and their early tunes give me intense feels.

Patrick Stump remembers the day he saw Pete Wentz basically hurtle out of the sky. The night was clear and frankly there wasn’t a star in sight. That might’ve had something to do with the horrible light pollution in the city areas, though. It was mid-summer, the northern air strangely sticky and uncomfortably warm.

He had been outside in his suburban backyard, strumming a few lonely notes on his still new guitar, letting the melody collapse mid-air. He almost didn’t notice Pete coming, or that there was _anybody_ at all coming from the direction of the sky. But it was just about too noticeable that something was seriously up when Patrick looked up from his guitar to see the teen yelling and rocketing down; straight for his yard.

Pete’s hair had been thrown backwards, making it plainly obvious that it had been recently bleached by the darker roots showing. His eyes were hysterically wide for someone who was probably falling at close to fifty miles an hour, and his mouth was _beautiful_.

Patrick almost let his instincts take over to go and get his mom, but his feet stayed perfectly planted on the last wooden step on the back porch, leaving him to witness Pete land roughly on the ground in front of him. His mouth was agape, and he was in _leagues_ of disbelief. In all of his fifteen years, he was pretty sure nothing beat seeing some stranger fall out of the sky.

It’s almost a full minute before Patrick finally feels his legs and feet again, so he quickly rushes to Pete’s side. From where’s he standing, Pete seems to be breathing, which is one heck of a relief; because how would he explain to the cops _that this guy pretty much fell out of the sky into his backyard?_

Patrick finally kneels to the ground, and makes a move to flip Pete onto his back when he decides to open his eyes. _Damn, his eyes are obscenely gorgeous_ , is the first thing Patrick thinks, and then quickly shuffles back.

“What beautiful boy’s yard have I fallen into?” is the first words Patrick hears Pete say, with a rather cheerful tone and a beautiful smile. “My name’s Pete, just so we can clear that up.”

“Name’s P-Patrick.” Patrick nearly says to himself, it instead comes out an awkward whisper as he struggles to breathe, hands trembling at his sides.

“Well, Patrick!” Pete scurries up onto his knees, looking at Patrick face to face now. “I really am sorry that I made a crash landing in your yard. Good thing I didn’t crush those poppies over there, huh?”

Patrick’s eyes quickly dart to what Pete’s gesturing at; his mother’s prized flowers, and _yes_ , he’s glad now that Pete didn’t body slam into them. But that’s not helping him find out what he needs to know.

“Where the hell did you _come from_?” Patrick sputters, finally letting his pale hands clutch at his knees.

“Let’s say I’m actually a falling star,” Pete begins, beginning to relax in the grass around him. “That the moon didn’t want me because I couldn’t shine bright enough, and he kicked me out of the house.” He waves his hands at the sky, which is mysteriously glimmering in thousands of tiny stars.

“So you’re just…a boy who fell out?” Patrick’s trying hard to make sense of this, but what Pete says sounds so outlandish he’s not completely sure what to think.

Pete nods, as if that would help Patrick at all, which is doesn’t at all. Patrick groans and nearly tips onto his back in defeat. Its right about then that Pete catches eye with Patrick’s guitar, which he had left at the top of the porch steps. Of course Pete goes over to it, as if magnetized to the thing, and starts to strum on the strings like he’s known how to play his whole life. Which he really doesn’t, but Patrick chuckles at his attempts with a fond smile.

“You’d do better on bass, Pete.” Patrick says matter-of-fact, coming over to where Pete’s still fiddling with the guitar and grabs it out of his hands.

Pete gives Patrick what he thinks is probably one of his best pouts, but ignores his silent plea for playing a few notes once more. Those few notes start to become an unwritten song, and soon it becomes the both of them either singing lowly or humming words that seem to come from Pete with unknown force. Patrick hasn’t felt so good about the song creation process in a very long time, and he’s grinning by the end of it as well as leaning into Pete’s side like its completely normal.

By the time the air becomes silent again, Patrick can tell that it’s extremely late, and his family has probably gone to bed. Pete seems to sense this as well; he stands up on the steps and looks down at Patrick with sad eyes.

“I’m going to have to erase everything that just happened here…everything to do with me.” Pete says sadly, a frown evident on his face as he grips Patrick’s shoulders.

“W-What?!?” Patrick’s in disbelief. _Pete could seriously do that?_

“I’m a falling star, and people aren’t supposed to know that we’re human too. Not even pretty little singer boys like you, Pattycakes.”

“First of all,” Patrick says in a whisper, leaning into Pete’s chest with his head and not even thinking about how weird that was at the time. “Don’t call me ‘Pattycakes’ ever again, even if I don’t remember you again. Secondly, _how?_ ”

Pete doesn’t answer Patrick’s question for nearly a minute, choosing to look at Patrick’s face, at _Patrick_. Then, he presses his forehead against Patrick’s head, and it’s all over.

 

Patrick’s confused. _Why was he still in his backyard at nearly midnight?_ He meant to go inside hours ago, and his body feels strangely too warm. So he picks up his guitar and trudges back into the house, not paying any mind to the bit of upturned ground at the bottom of his back porch steps.

 

Miles away and months later; Pete Wentz sits in his bedroom, restless and unable to reach sleep, with his mind racing with everything _Patrick_. He’s glad that Patrick was the first person he met when he fell from the stars, that it wasn’t some extremely crazy person wanting publicity on him. That would have been most unfortunate.

He’s still thinking about Patrick’s stunning green eyes when his bedroom phone rings. He runs clear across his room to pick it up, not really wanting to wake his parents up with it. It’s Joe Trohman on the other side of the line, some kid who he knows probably too well for him to be over four years younger.

“Wentz, _dude_. I finally remembered what I wanted to tell you earlier!” Joe says, and Pete can tell that he sounds madly excited.

“Talk up, then, Joe.” Pete says, jumping back into his bed, not really caring if his phone dies after he hangs up with Joe.

“So you know we were talking about that side project of Arma, right?” Joe asks, and Pete makes a sound acknowledging that he knew. “So there’s this kid in the scene, I don’t why I hadn’t seen him before. His name’s Patrick Stump and I ,em>seriously think he could be the drummer we need, Pete!”

Pete’s heart nearly stops when Joe mentions the name, but he soon regains his senses and hums in approval. “When do I get to meet him?”

“He’s coming over to my house tomorrow after school; you could come over too, if you want. Or you could wait until we meet Friday night.” Joe says, and there’s yelling in the background before the phone is suddenly hung up.

Pete disconnects the call, falling back against the pillows on his bed in shock. He was going to finally _meet_ Patrick again. Without the memory wiping, without the awkwardness of being the ‘boy who fell out’.

Pete’s body is racing, and will be, until he meets Patrick Stump once again.

 

*Some years later*

 

“So…any suggestions on a name for the band?” Joe lightly mentions one breezy winter afternoon; watching as Pete and Patrick both nursed their Starbucks drinks in their hands.

The suggestion quickly launches into making a long, painfully comprehensive list of names for their budding group. Patrick tries not to think about a name for _them_ ; because there was so many times that the name would be picked in bands he’d been in, only for them to split months later, the name merely a memory preserved on ratty t-shirts.

Though, as his arms bump into Pete’s side, a particular name wants to interrupt his train of thought.

_Fall Out Boy._

“What about Fall Out Boy?” Patrick says, words passing uncertain across his lips, eyes looking at anything _but_ Pete. The name somehow vaguely reminds him of Pete, which doesn’t make much sense to him.

“I really like that, Trick. Sounds like you’re really putting your mind to it!” Pete replies, looking at him with a glint in his honey brown eyes. For some reason, Patrick gets the feeling that Pete’s being truly honest in his opinion, so he sends him a shy grin back.

Patrick only wishes he _knew_ why the name and Pete keep connecting together…he guesses he’ll have to ask Pete at some point, maybe he’d know….

 

_Joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks on best friends….we were the kids who feel like dead ends…._

**Author's Note:**

> (i SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST FIC I'M GONNA WRITE UNTIL LIKE THE 12TH OF THIS MONTH!!) feel free to send requests anyways. I do all pairings.


End file.
